more useless facts about Raoul Lufbery, as brought to you by today’s archive visit
- he spoke French, English, Hindi, Bengali, German, and possibly Cantonese
- he drove racecars (that’s a Hispano-Suiza given to him ‘in recognition of his aerial accomplishments’), who let this man have a racecar
- he played the mandolin, described his own singing as ‘the yelping of a dog when you step on his tail’, and liked ukulele music- he painted a giant pre-Nazi swastika on his plane
- once whilst camping in an old ruin outside Cairo a bandit tried to knife him and he won
- he had a photographic memory
- despite being an American citizen, he spoke English with a French accent
- whilst on leave he got arrested for knocking an annoying train conductor out with a single punch
- he was 5’6”
- he was meant to be his nephew’s godfather, but he died a week before the namesake was born
the only reason I watch Top Gun at all is because of Ice Man’s frosted tips, the volleyball scene and the opening scene with the fucking jets and the music I turn that shit up to max volume
I’ve seen Top Gun way too many times and I hate to admit to the fact I can quote most of it
it’s all because a couple of the flight sergeants (specifically the flgt sgt of my flight) dubbed Top Gun the unofficial air cadet movie and when we’d go to the air base to fly the cessnas or gliders the kids waiting for their turn to fly sat around in the aerodrome huddled around the small tv watching Top Gun on VHS (because there wasn’t a dvd player because fuck you harper government. one day though they did get a dvd player and it was wicked) but like this evolution would take literally all day so Top Gun played like six times over and over again
Ready to party
I was almost accepted into space cadet camp before I quit air cadets.
guys I could have fucking trained to be an astronaut for a month no exaggeration whatsoever
Get To Know Me Meme -[1/5] Favourite Poems (personal addition) | Leda and The Swan by W.B. Yeats
A sudden blow: the great wings beating still
Above the staggering girl, her thighs caressed
By the dark webs, her nape caught in his bill,
He holds her helpless breast upon his breast.
How can those terrified vague fingers push
The feathered glory from her loosening thighs?
And how can body, laid in that white rush,
But feel the strange heart beating where it lies?
A shudder in the loins engenders there
The broken wall, the burning roof and tower
And Agamemnon dead.
Being so caught up,
So mastered by the brute blood of the air,
Did she put on his knowledge with his power
Before the indifferent beak could let her drop?